The Eve of All Hallows
by HanaImakura
Summary: An expected-to-be-short fanfiction starring Rhonda and Sam. Sam decides to go to school and there he finds Rhonda, who catches him off-guard because she is nothing like the other children. (Has more than one chapter! Planned to have at least 13 chapters!)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a little spirit named Samhain. His mother was Victorian, his father was Christian, his grandmother was Celtic, and his grandfather was Greece. For several years, he was raised by his grandmother because his parents had been too poor to take him themselves. He loved her dearly- she taught him how to build a fire, how to speak to the dead, and how to carve things. But one day, grandmother Celtic could no longer care for him. At the age of four, he was passed into the hands of his grandfather Greece. Grandfather Greece enjoyed the boy, but thought his ways needed some tweaking. So the boy was taught how to converse with the gods, navigate the Underworld, and how to prepare a proper harvest feast. Soon, his real father came into money and Samhain was taken under his wing. Samhain was amazed at how different his father perceived the world- evil lurked everywhere that Samhain had been taught to venture before. So his father taught him how to pray, how to properly honor the dead, and how to pleasingly arrange a feast. When this was done, Samhain was sent for by his mother Victorian. Mother Victorian was very kind and proper- she had much less care for want of prayer, and she did not particularly like the dead. But she loved the feasts that Samhain could create. So, together with her son, she taught him how to create extravagant parties and costumes. Samhain particularly liked the clothes of the scarecrow, because his grandmother had once shown him how having a scarecrow around ensured more plentiful crops for harvest. His mother Victorian thought this was rather droll and often dressed up as a scarecrow herself. By the time Samhain was ten years old in human years, his mother and father had long passed away. He missed them dearly and promised that he would keep doing the things they taught him to do in life. Eventually, he was found curled up alone in a pumpkin patch by a friendly but very industrial man in a suit and was taken home with him to meet his family.

All was fine until October 31st. Samhain had carved out a set of special jack-o-lanterns for his lost family and left them out to run all night. When he returned from collecting candy, he found each pumpkin smashed to pieces. He was infuriated. He was disappointed in humanity. Didn't they know terrible things would happen after this? Unfortunately, something caught him by surprise. Another spirit- a pitch black, hulking entity had engulfed him. He wrestled and fought in vain. A sharp pain descended upon his head that seemed to last forever. In an instant, the thing dissipated and he found himself all alone on the sidewalk. As leaves skittered and whirled on the winds betwixt his feet, he proceeded, filled with anger and dismay, down the darkened street, eyes glowing with the new-lit embers of a great big jack-o-lantern. People were slowly forgetting him, now. He was fading away. But he was not going to give up so easily…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Late August

Rhonda stood still, dark hair tossing about in the wind, clutching a thick stack of books of various sizes to her chest. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, picked up her backpack, and tried to walk confidently up to the steps of the school. Rhonda likened herself to thinking that she looked impressive, but she knew that was not true. It would never be true. In reality, several scraggly groups of kids were outwardly giggling at her and pointing, burning her with their leering glances.

It was the first day; she knew she would have to cope with the mockery the rest of the school year so that she would not have to face the wrath of her mother. She adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose before getting down on one awkward knee to reach her locker. As she was going to turn the lock so she could see where to fit the key in her other hand, a mighty force bowled her to the ground. "Ow!" she shouted as her backpack and stack of books toppled over like dominos, "Who did that?!". A large group of young boys scattered, leaving the echoes of torment to bounce about on the walls. Rhonda pulled in her arms and began to sit up so that she could reorganize her stuff, saying "Ugh… Boys. When will it ever stop?".

But then, Rhonda heard a sort of rustling- the kind of sound that fabric makes when it is unfolding and being rubbed against a hard surface, coming from behind her. Thinking it was another kid ready to pounce on her, she whirled around to face her attacker. What she saw before her though made her forget to even breathe for a moment. It was a kid about her own age, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, black fingerless gloves on his hands, and covering his head was a stitched together burlap sack with buttons for eyes. He had also just gotten back up and was searching around the floor frantically. When Rhonda finally remembered speech, she asked, "Did you drop something, too? What are you looking for?".

He stopped his searching and slowly fixed his gaze on her. For a moment, he did not move at all. Something seemed to go through his head at that point- Rhonda could sense it somehow. Then, as if he had forgotten about the search for whatever-it-was, he gestured towards a pen that had dropped on the ground just behind Rhonda. "Oh! Were you looking for a pen?" she produced a small gasp of surprise as she picked it up and handed it to him. "You can use this one till you find yours or you can get a new one, okay?" she tried to smile. It wasn't a very good one, she knew that. But her mother would sometimes scold her for not smiling at people. It was not that Rhonda was often unhappy that she didn't smile, just that she would always forget to. But this time, she remembered.

The boy stopped his motions to listen to her offer, but as he could not speak, he started to make motions with the pen on the palm of one of his hands as if he were writing on paper. Every so often for the next few seconds, he would look up at her to try and see if she had understood his request, but it was to no avail. So he got to his feet, walked past a perplexed Rhonda, retrieved a scattered piece of paper from where her books had fallen, sat back down with it in front of her, and began to scribble something. "O-oh! I-I'm sorry… I had no idea you wanted paper…", she stuttered, feeling guilty for not having understood him. He stopped scrawling and handed her the paper. On it, she read the name, "Sam".

"Sam.." she said aloud as she took the paper from his hands. "Is that your name?" she inquired, observing to see his reply. Sam simply nodded his head yes and then cocked it to one side as if asking a question in return. Rhonda seemed to understand this much. "My name's Rhonda… I'm really weird… But then again, I guess you are, too. I mean," she shrugged," not many other kids come to school in their costumes before or after Halloween…". Sam nodded once more, this time in agreement. He then appeared to have a realization and pointed to the watch Rhonda was wearing. "Oh—" she glanced at it, "Oh! We should get going or we'll be late for class! Come on!". Rhonda sprang up and began collecting her materials so she could put them away in her locker. Sam resolved to pick himself up and assisted her by holding her books for her while she turned the key in the lock.

When the locker squeaked open, the two of them shoveled the items she would not be needing into the cubby inside, and locked it back again. After this, Sam proceeded to help her pick up her needed materials. "Alright. Thank you, Sam! You got everything you need, too?" she smiled at him brightly. He simply shrugged and looked around the hall for the second time since the previous events, as if he were still missing something. "Oh, well, that's okay. I'll let you borrow some of my supplies instead." Rhonda said as she took Sam by the hand and began leading him to their classroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: An Apple for Teacher

Rhonda quickly seated herself in the desk closest to the teacher's. Sam took a seat several desks closer to the back of the classroom, hoping to conceal himself among the children. He was thousands of years old- what did he need this class for, anyway? Today, he was going to be teaching the lesson instead, and Rhonda, he hoped, would learn something from it. Before long, a short, slightly obese, balding man came in wearing a pin-striped business suit and tie. "Good morning, class!" he grinned somewhat slyly.

"My name is Mr. Greenfield. As you all know, I will be your English teacher for the rest of the year." he announced as he scrawled his name out on the chalk board. As he began to open up on the subject of introductions, Sam prodded his neighbor and offered a bright red apple, gesturing towards the teacher. "Oh! Thanks! This'll really help me out, man!" the boy whispered with a grin as he accepted the gift. "Mr. Greenfield?" the boy said as he stood up, "I have something for you.". Mr. Greenfield approached the student and with a slightly more than distrustful glance, took the apple and replied with a low "Thank you".

The boy sat down smiling to himself, thinking this would help improve his grades in the long run even if he goofed around, as the teacher returned to his place before the class to resume the lesson. In between some of his words, Mr. Greenfield nearly brought the apple to his mouth for the first bite. Sam observed with great suspense, waiting, hoping, almost lusting for the moment that this man would be dispatched to arrive soon. Mr. Greenfield had a second thought, and decided to put the apple away until lunch time, safe within his desk. Sam sulked low into his seat. He had hoped that the class could be together in the room for this, just so he could make them all suffer. He half-hoped any time that he disturbed or killed someone, that some of the pain from his memories would be alleviated. But regrettably, it never seemed to work.

The next few hours were fairly boring and quiet. Sam made several attempts to write notes to Rhonda to pass the time, but she was a good kid and seemed to be putting all of them on hold until class was over. Once, the kid behind Sam started poking him repeatedly in the back of the head with a sharpened pencil. Sam continued to ignore it. Finally, there was a sickening vegetable-like crunch, and Sam could somehow hear the boy trying to stifle a terrified scream. He slightly turned to see the child's face stricken with fear and felt a satisfying smirk creep across his own face as he realized the boy was distraught because the fact that Sam was a pumpkin had spooked him. Good. This would hold him over until that disgusting man would end his own life. Sam settled himself comfortably, facing the front of the room once more.

A girl sitting in the desk behind Rhonda wrote something down on a paper and stuck it with a piece of tape onto Rhonda's back without alerting her. The girl giggled, which made Sam wonder what was so funny. He tried looking over her shoulder from his vantage point, but could read nothing. Oh well. Must be a silly childish game. He dismissed the memory of having seen what he saw and fixed his eyes back on the teacher. More minutes passed and Mr. Greenfield announced that it was time for lunch and let the kids out to go to the cafeteria. Sam hung back, anticipating something. Rhonda assumed this was the case just after having left the room and resolved to rejoin him and eat her lunch in the classroom. But as soon as she had turned to begin walking back to the room, a crowd of children slowly surrounded her, laughing, bellowing her shame. "Oh!" Rhonda frantically looked around for the reason they were laughing at her as they backed her up against a locker.

She braced herself, books held tight before some girls stepped forward and began shoving her around, boasting about how retarded they thought she was. Sam heard the racket in the hall; heard Rhonda's sobbing getting louder and louder with each time she smacked into the lockers. It finally began to annoy him just as Mr. Greenfield was finishing a sandwich and reaching for the apple. Sam was torn. Rescue Rhonda and save his holiday's future, or exact revenge on this human slime? He might wrench his own heart out if he didn't get to witness the bloodshed, and he did not trust leaving the scene. But on the other hand, his duty was to make sure Samhain survived, and in the future, Rhonda could become a key in keeping it alive if kids stopped picking on her for it.

Sam finally became infuriated by the incessant noise in the hall, stood up and raced out into the hall. He shoved his way into the crowd and stood there, watching and waiting impatiently. The two bullies slowed down and turned their attention to him. "What do YOU want?" they snapped, "You wanna rescue her? Pathetic!". They advanced on him, but before they were half way to him, Sam lifted a hand and they began to levitate with it. He suspended them in mid-air, in his spiritual grasp, and began extending negative energy to them which made them feel as if they were choking. Rhonda stared in amazement at her friend's ability. This was something she had only seen in books or movies. She remembered that in one of them, there was a girl very similar to herself that had similar powers.

Just then, the silence was shattered as a scream echoed forth from the classroom, followed by a very heavy thud against the linoleum floor. Sam dropped the girls to the floor, breaking the leg of one and bruising the other, and high-tailed it back to the classroom. Inside, the floor was sopping wet with a thick, slippery, expanding pool of blood. He sulked a tiny bit, but tramped through the mess to retrieve his sack from inside his desk so that he could collect the body. But before he was back again at the teacher's desk, the other students, as well as several teachers had gathered and were making a fuss. Some teachers were trying to cover student's eyes and shoo them away, while others were whipping out their cellphones to call an ambulance or contact the school administrators and nurse. The children were chattering wildly, asking questions about what had occurred, and others were either in dumbfounded shock at the sight or weeping heavily.

Mr. Greenfield lay sprawled, propped up a little by his chair, tongue hanging out, eyes rolled up, blood trickling in streams from the edges of his mouth. His belly was further distended, was swelling, and it had burst open, blood and gore hanging out, with the end of one intestine snaking down to the floor, seeming to point to the blood-covered razor that was laying there alone. Alarmed by the sudden attention to the room, Sam took his empty sack and stole away through a darkened window in the back of the room before anyone could notice that he had been in there.

Rhonda picked herself up, and with books in hand, rushed to go see what all the new fuss was about. As she stood up, though, the sign from her back drifted to the floor. It read, "I'm a witch". What Rhonda saw made her gasp, her heart skipped a beat. "Oh, my…" she said to herself under her breath as a sick feeling welled up inside of her. She tore herself away from the crowd and began a half-run half-walk to leave the school. Outside, she saw Sam walking all alone down the street, but thought nothing of it, and decided to go on her way home.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Where For Art Thou

Rhonda proceeded silently up the pathway to the front door of her house and stopped half way. A rat was sprawled across the welcome mat, belly sliced open, innards spilling out. "Ugh…" she scoffed as she leaned forward and shoved it aside with her foot, leaving rust colored skid marks on the white cement. Rhonda reached out and pulled the door open to make her way inside. The house was mostly cast in shadow- her mother seemed to like living in a dungeon. It was cold and unwelcoming, and even worse when Rhonda heard the sound of her mother's voice almost booming from the kitchen. She was currently in the middle of a very important phone call to a friend about how her day was, how her relationship was, so on and so forth. Something much more important to Rhonda's mother than even her own daughter's first day experiences at school.

Rhonda stole past the kitchen, up the stairs, and into her room where she unloaded her backpack, stretched out across her bed and stared at the ceiling to think things over. Who would be insane enough to cause a murder at the school? Why? Were the other children going to suspect her of the awful deed? She hoped not. Rhonda reached for a nearby shelf and took off a photo of herself dressed in her witch costume. She turned it over in her hands, holding it up in the dim light that came through her window. Halloween was her favorite time of the year. The one night when no one dared pick on her for being different. The one night when she could show off her true self and be accepted. She began thinking of some of her fondest memories- when her father would teach her how to carve jack-o-lanterns, or when her cousins dressed up with her as a dragon and fooled some people into thinking they saw something strange out in the woods. Fun times, she thought.

When the light coming through the window changed to a deep orange, Rhonda's mother roughly called her down to dinner. Rhonda reluctantly joined her mother at the dinner table, and keeping her head down, ate the disgusting food in silence. Her mother hardly even bothered to cook- it was only a plate of canned refried beans that had only been half prepared. The beans hadn't even been poured from the can. Rhonda shortly began simply squishing the substance around with her spoon, to which her mother responded with a frightening glare and a roughness in her voice. "Rhonda, eat your dinner!" she demanded, startling Rhonda into dropping the spoon to the floor. "Look at you! You can't even eat without fucking up!" she screamed as Rhonda bent over and tried to retrieve the utensil. She was shaking uncontrollably. By now, she should be used to this from her mother, but the fear never seems to leave. A harsh blow to the back of her head and Rhonda found herself scrabbling around on the floor at her mother's mercy. "Pick that damn spoon up and finish your fucking dinner, you lazy ass!" her mother screeched, gaining more insanity by the second.

Terrified, with rivers of tears streaming down her cheeks, Rhonda got back up, downed the can in one go and rushed off back to her room where she slammed the door behind her, sulked against her bed, covered her face and began to sob. Her mother was terrible, as always. Rhonda had had no idea what had caused her to become this way; all she knew was that her mother had been acting strangely ever since her father had disappeared. She must have done something to him, because before that, their lives were very happy as far as she knew. Rhonda began to sob heavier and louder as her mind clouded with memories of her father again.

When Rhonda finally looked back up, tears were still leaking from her eyes and moonlight sparkled throughout the room. Several times, she had nearly fallen asleep while crying, but was once again awakened by the sharp emotional pain in her heart. She needed a real friend, but she could not think of anyone at the moment who would really care about her. Until she remembered the events of the earlier day in which Sam had rescued her from those two girls. Unfortunately, Rhonda had to give up on trying to contact Sam right now, one, because she did not know his number, and two, because she might wake her mother if she tried to creep down to the kitchen and call someone. So she remained there, almost feeling lifeless, but whole-heartedly hopeless and broken.

Just then, she heard a dull scratching noise against the glass of her window. Rhonda picked herself up, not without some trouble, and ventured to see what was going on. She was appalled to see that Sam had hoisted himself up to her window somehow and was scratching his nails against the glass to get her attention. He seemed to be writing something. Rhonda looked closer and read, "Open the window". So she quietly lifted it and helped Sam climb over the sill and onto the floor in front of her bed. "How did you get up here, Sam?" she whispered excitedly. Sam mimed a climbing motion in response and half-shrugged. "I find that hard to believe… But, why did you do it?" Rhonda questioned him again.

Sam only stared at her without making a single sound until she realized that he needed to write his answer this time. So Rhonda retrieved a pen and a notepad from her nightstand and handed it to him. When he gave it back to her, the page read "I don't have a place to stay. Can I stay with you?". Rhonda forced a little smile, remembering that she should show him that this has made her feel better. She laughed a little and replied, "Sure, Sam… But we gotta stay out of my mom's way. She'll kill me if she knows I have a friend over.". Sam appeared relieved by this and shrugged to say that avoiding her mom wouldn't be a problem.

Rhonda took Sam by the hand and led him over to one side of the bed. "It's getting late," she remarked, "We should get going to sleep. Here. You can sleep with me.". He trembled for an instant, shocked with the slight intimacy, before crawling up under the covers and pulling the blanket up over his head. Rhonda uttered a goodnight on reaching her side of the bed, turned out the lamp on her night stand, and crept under the covers. Little did she know, Sam hardly ever slept. So it was on this night. He laid awake while she slumbered, dwelling on how his painful memories would never leave him be, and how agonizing it is to be slowly decaying. He was spooked awake from his stupor when he felt something warm and comforting nudging against his backside. He looked over his shoulder and saw Rhonda, happily dreaming and cuddling him from behind. He reached over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Don't worry, kid. They'll all soon be forced to accept both of us. One way or another.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Lollipop

Later that night, Sam began to dream. It began as if morning had already arrived,

with the pale rays of light cascading through Rhonda's bedroom curtains. He gingerly

pushed himself out of the bed, taking care not to disturb Rhonda on the other side.

There was an immense feeling that he was expected to meet someone or something at

the school only a few blocks away. _Why? Why do you want me to go back there?_ he

thought to himself as he silently pulled back the curtains only enough to let in just a

sprinkle of light. He pressed his face and hands to the window as he scanned the street

below to see if maybe the feeling was nothing more than an obligation to go with the

other children to classes and search for his weapon. What he saw made him uneasy.

No children were making their way to the school. The street was completely

deserted, leaving him to wonder how he could make it into the school now without

being suspected of foul play. His gut clenched, pulling him in the direction of the school.

Sam knew he had to go, but he had no idea exactly what was pulling him there.

Creeping silently across the floor, he made his way across Rhonda's bedroom. But

before he laid a hand on the doorknob, he froze. He turned to have a look at Rhonda's

sleeping face. The morning light flowing around her seemed peaceful and heavenly,

bringing forth a sense of pure beauty. It had been thousands of years since he had last

seen light like this. Long ago, when he had had more power, people would light

monstrous bonfires in his name during October, and on one night, he had glimpsed the

face of a young woman with light skin, long black hair, dark eyes and a stunning smile

on her lips as she danced around one of his bonfires. Rhonda was an exact twin for this

woman.

But he had to shake himself out of his reminiscing and keep moving; the feeling

in his gut told him so. So he quietly opened the door and stepped out onto the landing in the

dimmed hallway. So far so good, not a living soul in sight and it seemed that Rhonda's mother

was still sound asleep. He tiptoed briskly down the flight of stairs at the end of the hall, through

the first floor of the house and out into the morning light and fresh air. The first thing he

noticed on arriving outside was that there was no wind- not even a slight breeze. The air

around him felt oppressive, and it stunk of Winter greenery even though it appeared to be early

Autumn. He recalled catching a whiff of this same scent long ago, when he was still only a

young spirit. Something awful was waiting for him at the school, and he wanted it gone.

He raced from street to street until he reached the school yard. As he had expected, it

was deserted. He made his way, without much effort, through the front doors of the building.

Sam was a bit surprised to find that they were not locked. Inside the school grounds, the scent

began to get stronger, and it started to exhibit other traits. It started to stink of cinnamon, basil,

pork, and mistletoe, which only made him angrier and angrier the longer he smelled it. The

smell was something that had been stolen from him on the night that humanity slowly began to

forget him. What he would be facing in the school was that same oppressive, all-consuming

entity that had been eating away at his life force since he was much younger, around the 1400's

in earthly history.

As he tramped through the halls, surveying every room for the elusive presence, his foot

kicked something under a locker with a small clink. Sam bent down to take a look at what it was

he had kicked, and he noticed a long, black and orange, candy striped stick protruding out from

underneath the locker. On further examination, he discovered that it was the weapon that he

had lost! His favorite lollipop, always sharper than a razor blade. But he was largely

disappointed when he found that the lollipop would not leave the hallway in his hand.

Something repeatedly kept pulling it right from his hand and placing it back where it had been

found, and Sam began to figure that the cause of it was the thing that had beckoned him there.

So he resolved to leave it be and keep hunting for his target.

An especially oppressive essence emanated from the principal's office, pulsating

through the air like a frightened heart beat. Sam stood before the looming doorway, taking a

moment to collect himself. _I am older than you are_, he thought aloud. He had not attempted to

speak physically, but his words echoed through the halls as if they had been spoken. _I know this _

_for a fact, O Samhain_, a deep, chilling voice reverberated from beyond the locked door. _But _

_know this- I am your downfall. I am your Achilles Heel. Challenge me, O Great Samhain, and you _

_shall perish. All shall know my name, and I shall be celebrated for far longer than you._, it

bellowed, its nasty words making Sam's head feel as if it were about to explode. He ignored the

feeling, anchored a foot forward and replied angrily, _That you may be, Young Yule_. He paused a

moment, as great pain spread across his back. He continued through gritted teeth as large,

lengthening vines made their way through the flesh on his back and burst forth in anger, _But _

_there is one thing I possess that you do not- an iron fist._ He sent forth images to Yule, detailing

his own memories of how he had been able to frighten people into popularizing his holiday in

the past. A man went missing at midnight after coming to a cross-roads, a spirit had been summoned to make contact with the living, or a young maiden had peeled an apple and seen

no initial on the floor behind her when it had been tossed. These were the kinds of things he

would cause to occur, and the kinds of things which led people to believe that they should

abide by his holiday and it's rules. Yule only laughed a hardy, ground shaking laugh and replied,

_Did you forget that fear can also drive them away? Have you forgotten that those people view _

_holidays as ancient security rites? Maybe, then, you are your own Achilles Heel_.

This left Sam to wonder a little at how he was supposed to regain his ground in the

yearly cycle. He made people feel safe if he threatened them and provided them with ways to

escape those threats… For instance, keeping a jack-o-lantern lit all night on October 31st

prevented his ghoulish friends from being able to prey upon the living. It slowly dawned on him

that he had to find more avenues to make people feel this way again about him. But doing so

would be tough. After all, more people now than ever were more accepting of the paranormal,

and no one would want to celebrate any individualistic fears. Maybe he could find a way to turn

the tables on… Yes! That was it! But before Sam could muster the strength to challenge Yule,

everything went black and he was whisked away by a strong wind.

He started awake, shaken by the power of the throw in the dream world. He sat bolt

upright, pushing the covers off, and trying not to shake. The morning light was glittering into

the room just the same as in the dream, only it felt a little lighter- a little less dark. As he

glanced around the room, Rhonda sleepily stirred awake. With a great yawn, she stretched out

her entire body, rubbed her eyes and rolled over to face Sam. "Morning, Sam…" she attempted

to fight a yawn, "Did you sleep well?". At first, Sam seemed to be staring off into space. But he

slowly turned his head to look her in the eyes. He said not a word, as most humans were not receptive to speech via thought, and he could not move his mouth to physically imitate human

sound. The buttons on his burlap mask shimmered a tiny bit in the morning light. "You seem

like you're excited for something today." she grinned meekly before rolling out from under the

covers. There was nothing to write within quick reach, so Sam attempted something he had

never done before- thought contact with a human. _… Dream… Frightening… School… _

_Something… There… _Sam's inner voice eerily whispered through the air, sending chills down

Rhonda's spine. She slowly turned to face him, with a scared look on her face. "Sam… I'm

scared. I just heard something really creepy!" she whined, sitting herself down gently on the

side of the bed. She recognized it as the voice she had heard in her head on that one Halloween

where something possessed her to leave her friends behind with the undead in the old quarry.

Sam nodded his head to show that he had heard her, and pointed at himself. "That…

That… Th-That was YOU?!" she stuttered, jumped and almost fell to the floor. Sam sent another

word towards her, _Yes_, as he nodded the same. He hoped that if she came to accept this way of

communication, that he would be able to soon send her complete sentences instead of these

little snippets. They made him feel quite dumb. But he had to admit, he was somewhat elated

that she could hear even just a single word. He just did not know why he felt that way yet. "Oh

my God!" Rhonda exclaimed, putting a hand on her forehead and falling on her back, onto the

bed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack! Are you the thing that made me leave my friends

behind?!" she stressed rather loudly and threw her hands up in the air, letting them flop down

onto the bed. _Yes_, came the creeping answer. "Why?! Why did you do it?!" she spazzed. Sam

made a psychological sigh and attempted further communication. _Had… To…, _was his only

answer. He wished he could explain further, but the communication was already draining him.

He wished he could tell her what was going to happen if they had stayed by her. Her

heart would someday have been broken by the boy who was flirting with her, and it would have

been the fault of that blonde girl and her minions who were working to help her. But he had

not the power, nor the energy to send her that message. Not right now, anyway. Instead, he

reached over, grabbed one of her hands, and stopped her from using it to cover her face.

_Don't… Cry…_, came the broken, fuzzy message. Rhonda sniffled and replied with "But you don't

know how guilty I've felt…". He knew, but he had hoped that she would come to understand

that he had left them, not her. Some time elapsed, and as Rhonda's mother could be heard

pulling the car out of the driveway, Rhonda looked Sam in the eyes and said, "I know now that

you did it. I don't know why, but you did. Maybe I'll know someday. But for now… For now, I

just can't seem to stop feeling bad that it happened.".

Sam nodded his head slowly, with understanding, as Rhonda rose to go to the restroom.

Her problems, to him, made his appear so small and insignificant. In a way, he felt vulnerable

for her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: We're A Couple of Misfits

_So there's a killer in my house… _thought Rhonda as she rushed to the restroom. The

thought was seriously stressing her out. She had to get away, she had to think about this. _But it_

_seems he was never and still is not after me!_ the thought struck her swiftly and without much

warning, stopping her in her tracks in the middle of the hall. _If he's not after me,_ she thought,

_then who or what is he really after?_. Now she felt she really wanted to know, but she was not

sure how he would react if she asked him. Would he get angry? Would he ignore her? Would he

run away? Would he kill her? She suddenly felt weighed down with anxiety. But she had to

keep going. Maybe a shower before school would- _Oh, that's right!_, she realized, _School's _

_probably not on today because of the incident…_. She mulled this over for a moment, tried to put

it out of her thoughts and resolved to continue with taking a shower, since she needed to clear

her mind, anyway.

Meanwhile, Sam was sitting there on the bed, feeling like he had done something.

Rhonda had reacted with fear. Was this the kind of fuel that he needed? He certainly did not

feel any more powerful than he had felt for the last two hundred years. Quite possibly, his fear

fuel might have to come from somewhere else. The only problem now was where to find it.

Sam scooted solemnly off the edge of the bed, and went to take a look at the street through

Rhonda's window. A loud noise like a hiss tumbled into his ears, but he had put aside the

situation at hand enough to put all of his momentary focus on finding a way to save his life.

Rhonda took up a bottle of shampoo, squirted some into one hand, and began

scrubbing through her hair with her fingers. The massage, surprisingly, was actually helping her

to finally relax a little, and the warm water beating down on her backside really helped for

effect. She still was a little unnerved by her newfound situation, but at least now she could

attempt to clear her mind. _Okay. So, theres this thing with really frightening power living with _

_me now… It doesn't seem like he's going to hurt me. Actually, I think he may be pretty protective _

_of me. Why, I don't know. Guess I'll add that to my growing list of why's. _She grabbed a

washcloth, rubbed a bar of soap into it, and began to scrub. _What's he doing here, I wonder? I _

_don't think I've seen him before… _perplexed Rhonda. _Or have I? I think I've seen that mask _

_before… Oh yes! When he possessed me, he was right there just staring at me! _a shudder ran

down her spine, despite the boiling water.

So many ideas and solutions were running about in Sam's little pumpkin head. Should

he call upon the Tuatha de Denaan? They had been there for him as his loyal servants and best

friends when he was just a sprout, maybe they could help him back on his feet. Should he make

a call on his undead friends? Maybe. There were still some people out there afraid of the

undead. Or could there be an entirely different approach to this? He was not entirely sure just

what to do. But then, a nearly original idea popped into his head. _What if I show my face to _

_someone?_ he mused. That was sure to create a stir of fear in any human heart, and maybe he

could convince them that keeping up with these traditions would prevent them from seeing his

face.

Finally, Rhonda was so relaxed that she found herself humming away with cheer inside

the heated, protective, even somewhat lonesome shower. This was probably one of those

things for which other people would consider her to be an oddball. When other people might

run to the nearest phone and call the police, Rhonda had actually calmed down, thought things

through and realized that there was no actual danger. He was not going to hurt her, and she

promised herself she was not going to let him hurt anyone else. But just as things seemed most

silent, Rhonda heard the loud clatter of the curtain being practically torn open, and she whirled

round with horrifying curiosity. Her mouth dropped open, and out of it came a scream sharp

enough to cut the silence, and piercing enough to draw blood.

There stood Sam, somewhat shadowed by the light source, beady little black eyes fixed

on her. He still wore his orange footies, his little hands still wore their torn, fingerless gloves.

But his mask was gone. She could see an orange, pumpkin-like head, with carved-out black

triangles around his beady little eyes, a carved-out black triangular nose, and a grin, cut with a

blade from one side of his face to the other and held together on the cheeks by large stitching.

For a moment, it terrified her and she backed into a corner, almost slipping and falling onto her

tail bone several times. "S-Sam?! I-Is that you?!" she cried out, almost on the verge of tears.

_Yes… Me…_ came the eerie little whisper once more. Only this time, it sounded a little defeated.

"Wh… What's wrong with your head?" replied Rhonda, in between gasps for breath, as she

tried to pick herself up and reach for a towel.

Sam tilted his head in a questioning matter. _Wrong?_ he asked, confused. "Well, most

people don't look at all like you…" Rhonda tried to explain without hurting him. _Ugly? Scary?_ he

pleaded somewhat, trying to get good feedback. Rhonda looked at him with some small

measure of shock. "Oh! No, Sam…" she coughed, "What I mean is… You look like a jack-o-

lantern!". _Oh…_ came an unexpected dejected reply as Sam's shoulders dropped. Those little

guys were not at all frightening. Sam dropped his head a little and began to look extremely

deflated and lost. Rhonda shuffled toward him, holding up a towel by one hand, and almost put

her face nose to nose with his. "Sam, jack-o-lanterns aren't ugly." She remarked, attempting to

cheer him up.

Something clicked. Deep, deep down somewhere inside him, something clicked just

then. _She's trying to cheer me up! Stupid kid, you should know that that's not what I- Holy shit!_

_What is this feeling? I feel… sick. I need to get out of here, fast!_ a light pink color began to

bloom across Sam's face. Feeling ashamed that Rhonda might see it, he pushed her away and

bolted out of the restroom. Mission to scare Rhonda failed. Miserably.


End file.
